The Demon King's Tale
by Vividpast
Summary: Fairy Tale AU. Arthur has been imprisoned in a cave for so long, threatening and killing humans in hopes of finding the one thing that can break the spell - a pure tear born from extreme sincerity and sorrow. After all, what deeper sorrow is there than a man facing his own death? Then, a man who doesn't fear death comes into the cave, changing Arthur's whole perspective. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter One

**WARNINGS:** Cannibalism! And implied minor character deaths. Kinda SLASHY but can be viewed as FRIENDSHIP only

**A/N:** What is happening to my brain? PLOT BUNNIES KEPT COMING AT ME. But worry not, dearies, this one's finished (kinda . . .).

The plot of this story is heavily based on a _manga_ (Japanese comic) that I will be mentioning in the last chapter so as not to spoil it. This story is divided in 2-3 chapter because I haven't edited the rest yet.

NOTE: This is in the second person point of view. I only made it so because it gets confusing in third person POV and I hate using first person POV. So, second POV it is.

**DISCLAIMER: **Characters are from BBC Merlin. Plot is from a manga. I don't own either of them.

Enjoy~

**CHAPTER ONE**

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_Once upon a time, in a cave of a long-hidden village, a creature of ice-cold demeanor—one without blood, without tears, or without remorse—was entrapped by a powerful spell . . ._

_Those who entered the cave were never seen from again._

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"Ahhh! Don't kill me, I beg you." The shrill noise irritates you, attacks your ears like inconspicuous daggers.

You growl, ice-blue eyes narrowing and canines glinting in the dark. The cries and pleas increase in volume.

"Please! I-I-I'll give you money. I'll give you all the money I have. I have a sack of gold a-and land—" Pathetic. Pathetic weak little humans. And stupid too. You have no need for currency nor land.

You require something far more precious and impossible; something that will free you from the enchantment that imprisons you in this damp and disgusting cave.

A tear escapes the puny human's eye, the first of many. It is not what you are looking for. You release an animalistic snarl in frustration. The human recoils in fear. You smell the desperation rolling from him in waves. He struggles fruitlessly from your grasp. You smirk at his suffering.

A swift twist. A sickening crack. Blissful silence ensues.

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You do not know how long you are trapped in the dark cave, with half your body forced upright by the ice freezing you on the surrounding rocks. You can only move your face and chest – enough to breathe the air you no longer need and let your eyes wander through the endless darkness. You do not feel hunger, you do not feel thirst, you do not feel your heartbeat, you—you feel nothing aside from the occasional irritation and pains that comes from attempting to shatter the ice with your immobile arms.

You were once human, you remember. But that is another lifetime ago.

The long stretch of isolation and helplessness has turned you into something else. Your blonde beard and hair have grown from its trimmed and groomed state to a wild and uncontrollable long mess, dirtied by mold and mud. Their strands has formed a life of its own, acting as your hands and weapon. You do not know how you had come to have such power, just that you have had it for a very long time.

You have no sense of time except for the people obliviously wandering in the cave. Once, they came aplenty, they came in groups, all merry and laughing as they entered. Their flesh were soft and pliant when you first tried them, full of the coppery taste of blood and the chewy taste of raw muscle. At first, you had sunk your fangs into their skin out of curiosity—out of boredom because you had nothing else to do. But the rich taste of their blood and the feel of their flesh against your teeth got you addicted—these were the first sensations you felt in years.

Now, you have rarely heard a human even scuffle near the entrance. And when one does dare wander in, their blood tastes bitter with some kind of poison or pollutant. It does not stop you from eating them but it takes away the enjoyment you once feel for the action.

You have once felt shame in craving for human flesh. That was another lifetime ago.

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_The demon—for the creature could be nothing else—was searching for a pure tear; it is something precious and magical and so rare that he did not even believe it existed . . . but it was his only hope._

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"_Only the purest tear, born from extreme sorrow and sincerity, can free you, my King."_ A smirk. A mock of a lover's caress._ "Find a tear as such and you can break the spell."_

You jerk awake, eyes adjusting to the never-ending darkness. A dream. No, a memory; a promise of freedom. That is the main reason why you need these humans—the main reason why you frighten and kill them.

Nothing is more pure, sorrowful or sincere as a human's tear when they know death is inevitable. Nothing can compare to the despair and anguish they feel when all their hopes of life are dashed. But maybe . . . there is. Because you have yet to find the tear that will free you. The plethora of scattered bones speaks of your failures.

But perhaps the witch—for it was a witch, you remember that much—that imprisoned you had lied? Had she given you false hopes? It is not so far-fetched—she had wanted you to suffer as much as possible.

You lean your head back and exhale. Closing your eyes, you recall a time when the ice doesn't numb your body, when the rotten smell isn't permanent, when the sunlight warms your face, and when another's touch is gentle upon your skin.

Your mind is blank.

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_Then, one normal day, a young man—barely out of his boyhood, really—bravely entered the cave where the demon lied._

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"Hmm, it's here, huh?" A deep voice awakens you.

Footsteps echoes at the entrance of the cave, signaling a new hope or perhaps another meal. Raising your head, you eagerly await the idiotic human who dare venture your cave. The steps are loud and clumsy, the owner just as so.

"Hello! Sir Demon King?" the voice speaks. "Hello! ?" The cave structure makes the sound reverberate throughout the area. "Whoah, great. Echo~~!"

You raise a brow at the childishness of the obviously adult human. But you have no time to ponder on that now. The figure comes in sight, tripping carelessly over the bones scattered about. Locks of dirty blonde hair dart in an attack.

"What the—"

You completely wrap the human in your hair— thick strands around the waist, bounding around the wrists and around the ankles. You ensure no chance of escape.

You lift the body off the ground and pull it closer to you. You come face-to-face with a mop of dark hair and pale face. The human is spluttering nonsense in surprise. You stare hard, ice-blue eyes unblinking as you wait for the shock to ebb and for the fear to replace it.

After a few moments, the human stares back. The face slowly blinks at you.

Then, a flash of white appears in the dark as the human smiles. "Oh, wow. You really exist!"

You frown at the obviously mentally-afflicted human. You scowl hard at him and shake him roughly. _Why isn't he afraid?_ you ask yourself.

"Ow, ow, don't do that." You flip him upside down. "I'm getting dizzy. Stop it, you prat! I'm gonna throw up." You give him a puzzling gaze, trying to decipher if this is all a bravado the human is putting up.

You draw the human closer, face inches away from your own. You bare your fangs and you growl. The stupid human just imitates you (from the baring of canines to the growling) mockingly, then laughs boisterously like it is all some sort of jest. His eyes glimmer with mirth even in the dark.

It is the first laugh you have heard in centuries. It sends a chill down your spine—not necessarily unpleasant but not exactly pleasing either.

You growl again and coil a lock around his throat. You tighten your hold until you are surely blocking the airways of the pathetic creature. The human chokes, gasping noises coming from the back of his throat. You smirk triumphantly. The human's eyes flutter close, his limbs relax, and impossibly, the noises he makes quieted. He does not struggle in the least. Your smirk dies off and is replaced by a confused scowl. The human is still alive—you can hear the rapid beating of his heart—but you still smell no trace of fear. He faces the idea of death with no qualms.

You falter and look curiously. Some humans has tried to be brave the first few moments but they usually break soon after, especially after you show them how easily you could take away their lives. Won over by curiosity, you release your hold on the human's throat. The human takes heaving breaths, one after another. His eyes relay confusion over his spared life. His expression still holds a note of wonder and holds no terror.

With a voice you thought you have lost years ago, you speak, "You," you start.

"It's Merlin," he interjects with a grin, practically beaming.

"Shut up. I didn't ask your name." You couldn't completely remove the irritation in your tone. Your obvious agitation makes the human's smile even bigger. "Why are you not afraid?" You feel the human startle at the question—or perhaps at your voice. "Your death was foretold the moment you stepped into this cave." Your voice is hoarse and unfamiliar.

The human's expression slips into something softer and somewhat sad before the cheeky smirk is back. You wonder if you have imagined the change.

"Maybe you're not very scary," he replies.

"Look around you," you frown. "These bones say otherwise."

"Well, I can't very much see in the dark, can I?" the human retorts, looking at you as if you were the idiot. "But I guess it does stink here." He crinkles his nose. Then, he stares at you accusingly. "How long has it been since you've taken a proper bath?"

You feel—You feel insulted—indignant. And a spark of a laugh bubbles in your chest. You blink rapidly at the newly reacquainted feeling. It has been a long time since you feel anything other than fury and irritation. You abruptly uncurl your hair around the human's limbs and let him go. He hits the ground with a yelp, sprawling on a few bones. You have no use for humans who are not afraid. And something that doesn't struggle takes away the fun you could have in a meal. (You deny the spark of anxiety developing in you because of the human—this human has made you _feel_.)

"Ow, that hurt, you clod! And—" several clatters of rocks against bones filled the silence. "These bones are hard and sharp!" The human stands up and claps the dirt out of his hands. He attempts to tidy his already soiled clothes.

"Go, and never return. You're the first one I spared and you should count yourself lucky." You have said more words in the span of a few minutes than you had for years. You have forgotten the sound of your own voice and the words feel like they are being said by a detached stranger.

The human just stares and smiles some more, a mischievous look upon his face. "Again, my name's Merlin. I live in the village several clicks from here. Sorry for crashing into your home like this but when my mother told me about the demon trapped in this cave, I didn't really believe—"

"Leave," you growl and really, how can someone be as idiotic as this one? "Or I _will_ eat you," you threaten.

"Are you hungry?" the human suddenly asks with a tilted head.

"What?" you reply, wrong-footed.

The human blinks and something akin to realization dawns on his face. Has he finally realized the impending doom he was about to face moments ago? You prepare to strike, hoping that horror would soon fill the human and he may be able to shed the tear you are looking for.

However, he instead drops a satchel strapped to his back on the ground. You blink in surprise. You have not noticed the satchel before. It is enormous and looks almost ready to burst with the things it contains inside. The dark-haired human rummages through it and it occurs to you that he may be searching for a weapon. Locks of dirty blonde tenses in attack and darts forward.

But before you could do anything more, the human straightens his stance and holds out a red round object that almost covers his palm at the size of it. You halt your attack, curiosity winning you over.

It is an apple.

With a sudden movement, the human shoves the fruit in your mouth. Your fangs bite down on it instinctively. Sweetness burst forth on your tongue, the kind of tang that you haven't expected to taste yet again. Lit candles, colorful gowns and dresses, skillful jesters, glamorous jewelries, and a mouthwatering feast flashed before your eyes. Fruit juice flowed down your chin.

The human pulls out the apple from your mouth with a _crunch_. You chew the portion in your mouth slowly, savoring its texture and taste.

"Delicious, right?" the human grins. "It was from a tree I grew myself. It's called an _apple,_" he says, enunciating the word like he was talking to a child.

"I know it's an apple," you hiss. You hate being talked to like a simpleton. A lock of hair dashes and plucks the fruit from the human's hand.

You eat it greedily, swallowing even the seeds and core as you finish. It is a refreshing change compare to what you have been eating for centuries. You lick your lips, not wanting the taste to fade just yet. The fruit ignites sparks of colors in your vision and the buzzing noise you constantly hear fades away.

The human blinks stupidly yet again. "You really were hungry." He gives you a thoughtful glance before turning his gaze towards the satchel. "You want another one?"

Unable to stop yourself, you nod rapidly.

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"I've been walking all day," the human informs you after finishing an apple for himself, badly stifling a yawn. You are currently savoring your fourth one, sucking all the juice first before taking one bite after another. "I'm going to take a nap, alright?"

You do not think the human is actually waiting for a reply so you do not give him one. He just gives you a tired smile and lays down on a portion of the ground clear of human bones, using the satchel as a pillow. After a while, the cave is filled with his soft snores.

You finish your apple, eating the core and all. The incredulity of the situation dawns on you. _He's sleeping,_ you think with disbelief. _He's sleeping right in front of me. I could still reach him with my hair._ You contemplate killing him right there and then—like you should have done a while ago. Your hair flicks restlessly. You stare at the face turned to you, pale and unguarded. He looks incredibly young. Defenseless, clumsy, idiotic.

It wouldn't be interesting to eat such a defenseless creature—a human that wouldn't even struggle or beg. _If I eat him, I might catch his stupidity, _you reason. And you suppose that you should spare his life in return for giving you the apples.

It is with these thoughts that your eyes drift shut and sleep overcomes you.

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"_How do I know this 'pure tear' really exist?" you rage against the ice bounding you to the rocks._

_She pauses at the entryway, contemplating. Then, she half-turns, ruby lips upturned in a saccharine smile. "There is another way to break the enchantment."_

_Hope flares bright and warm in your chest. "How?"_

_She chuckles ominously. Her mouth opens to say—_

You jerk awake to a warm light encasing the cave. The orange glow flickers and moves, the shadows dancing in turn. For a dazed moment, you think you are feeling the warmth of the sunlight against your face. Then, you come fully awake.

There is a fire.

The logs feeds it heartily, glowing embers flying like dust in the air. The licks of the flames click against the wood.

"So even demons sleep, huh."

Your gaze snap to the human sitting beside the fire.

His legs are held loosely against his chest, chin atop his crossed arms on his knees. His eyes—the blue of stormy clouds and restless seas—shimmers in the soft firelight as he looks at you curiously. His expression leaves you confused.

"You should have escaped when you had the chance," you mutter.

"You told me you'll spare my life," is the cocky reply.

You scowl, eyes narrowing. "I can change my mind if you insist on staying."

The human just hums contemplatively—he's weighing his options like his life isn't hanging in the balance— and reaches out with a stick to arrange the logs around the fire. He adds another piece of wood.

"Do you have a name?" he asks eventually.

The question gives you a start. A name? Name? You are once human—you have or _had_ one. You haven't thought about it for a long while. What is your name? What is it? You try to recall it. _My King, my King, my King_. Name? _Laughs echo in the halls, people dancing, gowns swishing, banners fluttering in the air, looking over the battlements as the sun rises on the vast fields and markets of the city_. _Dear, your highness, my lord, sir, sir, sir. Metals ringing as they clash, fall, and slice. Pyres are lit, people are gathering, screams echoes in the courtyard, an axe is falling, a noose is hanging with a body swinging. Murderer of the innocents, love, don't. My prince, brother, brother, do not. Ar—_

"—thur." you breathe out. "Arthur," you repeat unconsciously. You have found your name. After centuries of losing it, you have found it. It leaves you with a fluttery feeling in your stomach and you feel somewhat breathless.

"Arthur." The name rolls off the human's tongue smoothly like silk on skin. He grins. "Arthur it is, then." He turns to you, curious. "So . . . how long have you been here?"

You raise your shoulders as much as you can, which is a scant centimeters given the restraints, in a shrug. You have long since stopped wondering the answer. Then, "Do you still have apples?"

The human chuckled, hand already rummaging through his satchel. You bristle, feeling insulted at being mocked at. Something must have shown in your face because the human waves his free hand.

"I'm not laughing at you," he says, presenting another apple with unnecessary flourish. Your hair plucks it from the hand. "It's just . . . You're the first one to ever like it. I tried selling them but the people in my village tend to avoid me as much as they can." A self-deprecating smile twists his lips.

You take a bite from the fruit, chewing it slowly just like before. Swallowing, you then ask, "Why? Do they think your mental-affliction contagious?" Because if the human is staying, you might as well entertain yourself by talking to the lowly being.

Your statement causes the human to laugh. Then, the smile that comes over the mortal's face is bittersweet. "They've always condemned people who have shown themselves to be different."

"Different?"

"Yes," he replies, eyes staring into the fire. "I don't have a father. Or rather, he abandoned my mother when I was but a babe." There is a resigned tone to his voice.

You hum. "Even though much time has passed, people's thinking have yet to change," some unknown force encourages you to say. "In my time, unmarried women who bore children can be stoned to death."

"In your time?" The human cocks a brow at you. "Did you mingle with us humans before you got trapped here?"

"I . . . I remember a time when I did. When I . . . I was human," you confess before swallowing the rest of the apple. This is the first conversation you have held in years. You feel strangely loquacious. After all, sooner or later, the human would leave. You would once again only have the rocks for company. _Perhaps_ . . . _it is better to take advantage of the company this time_, you admit to yourself.

Wide blue eyes stare at you, incredulous. "You were human?"

Instead of replying, you let your gaze travel through the cave. There are drawings along its walls and ceiling, you realize, depicting animals and tribes. The marks are crude and shaky but they are no doubt ancient. You stare in amazement, having never seen them so clearly before even though you have been here for so long. The firelight dances along the walls, giving off the illusion that the drawings are moving. A warm stir of delight bubbles in your chest at the sight.

"What did you do to the bones?" you can't help but ask as you notice that there is not a single bloody corpse on the floor.

"I dragged them outside and buried them," the human immediately answers, a note of solemnity in his tone.

You wait for the accusation. Humans who's loved one died by your hands usually come to the cave in search for vengeance. They have called you names, have tried to make you feel guilty for what you have done. You have long since lost your conscience and the capacity to care so it is all a useless endeavor. It is not long before those people joined their loved ones in the afterlife.

However, the accusation did not come even after a couple of seconds. You merely hum then, silently wondering what had made this human different from the others.

The cave still smell atrocious but with no corpses, the stink would hopefully dissipate (and there are space for more bodies in the future).

"So . . . you were human?" The human asks again. "What happened then? How did you become like . . . this?" his eyes track down towards your feral state.

Deciding that there is no harm in telling, you reply, "There was a witch."

The human's head snaps up, eyes boring through you. "You were cursed," he deduces, wonder and pity in his voice.

You do not want the pity. You give him a glare but he does not seem perturbed. He gives you a contemplative look. Then, as if deciding on something, he nods to himself. The human gets to his feet and steps closer to you.

"Why were you cursed? What did you do?" Wide blue eyes stare at you, curious.

"I did nothing!" you growl and watch with satisfaction as the human flinches back.

However, after a few seconds, he continues moving forward, face unreadable.

"Witches don't just curse anyone," he says as fearless as ever. You frown at the implication. He is close enough to reach a hand on the ice holding you. And that's what he does.

You are unable to do anything, shocked at the boldness of this human. So you merely let him, your hair flicking agitatedly around you both.

"You're cold," he mutters, finger tracing over the ice near your chest. You feel the ghost of his touch upon your skin, fingertips skittering at the edges of where ice meets skin. The pale hand then travels across your chest, pressing a warm palm right over your heart. An electric shock goes through your whole being at the sensation. From the contact, a red hot feeling flows through your veins. It dissipates the cold and for the first time in centuries, you feel extremely warm.

"You don't—" the human starts to say, blinking confusedly, but cut off as you let out a choked gasp.

The human pulls his hand back as if burned. Immediately, the heat recedes and the cold creeps in. It is a cruel sensation, feeling cold again after experiencing that delightful warmth.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright?" He wears an apologetic expression, hands hovering but never touching.

You come back to your senses. You scowl, suddenly and inexplicably furious at this lowly being—for his fearlessness, for the apples, for the new sensations, and for the warmth he tantalizingly offers. You roughly shove the human with all locks of your hair. He yelps, soaring over the air and landing with a sickening crack several feet away.

You start panting harshly, cold seeping even into your lungs. It makes your breathing moist and slightly painful. After a few moments, you finally manage to calm down. You stop inhaling the air you no longer need.

The logs in the fire clicks loudly in the silence, snapping you out of your trance. The fire still burns heartily, the satchel beside it casting a large shadow on the ground. A few feet away, the human's unmoving figure lay crumpled on the ground.

Something stirs inside you at the sight; something that makes your mouth dry and your chest grow colder than before. You recall the devastating sound he made before he hits the ground and the sound of his body smacking onto the rocks. Slowly, hesitantly, locks of dirty blonde hair approach him. You lift him off the cold stones and brings him closer to the fire. His head lolls to the side as you lay him back down, body pliant and still.

_Is he dead_? Have you accidentally killed the one being you promised to spare?

You stare at his pale and relaxed face, willing him awake. He remains stubbornly motionless for several minutes. Losing patience, you form a semi-sharp end with your hair and prod his face. After two more pokes, the human lets out a groan of pain. He swats the annoying lock of hair, movement sluggish as if he doesn't know how to use his limbs.

"Hmm, m'wake," he mumbles, struggling to even open his eyes. He attempts it a few times, only half opening them each time, before ultimately giving up and keeping them closed. You give him another sharp poke on the cheek and he jerks awake and upright.

"Ow," he hisses, rubbing his head and swaying. Without your permission, locks of hair steadies the human in his sitting position.

He blinks confusedly for a few seconds before he seems to remember what happened. Slowly turning his head to you, instead of a wary or fearful glance, he gives you a rather intimidating glare.

"You could have told me it was a sore subject," he grumbles. "Instead of throwing me into a wall like a caveman, you prat."

You stare in shock at the gall of this human. But really, you shouldn't be surprise anymore. You just huff in reply. Who is he to lecture you about manners? By the looks of his tattered clothing, he is nothing but a mere peasant raised outside of court decorum.

"I guess you forgot human etiquette while you were in here." He scrunches his nose. He grabs his satchel and rummages through it. He fishes a thick white cloth and presses it at the back of his head, wincing all the way. You see the cloth stain red with blood. His other hand goes to rub his chest. You wonder if he has broken his ribs.

"Perhaps it's because I'm no longer human and those etiquettes no longer apply to me," you answer belatedly.

The human gives you an interested look, placing the cloth down. "You don't have a heartbeat, you know."

Don't you? You never really thought about it before.

"People in my village calls you a creature without blood, without tears and without remorse," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. Then, he continues in an overly casual manner, "They say you were once a king but you sold your soul to a demon to gain more wealth and became an evil incarnate yourself."

A demon? Perhaps that is what you have turn into; something without a heartbeat, something that does not need to breath, and something that acts so callous towards any living being.

"Then, a shaman locked you in here to stop your reign of terror," he finishes. "I guess it was actually a witch then."

You decide what to say in reply. You remember what truly happened, something you do not recall a few hours prior. You wonder what has changed that made your mind clearer than it has been for centuries. "People like to put a creative twists to the truths," you settle on saying.

"True," the human responds, nodding in assent. He does not pry for the real version of events. Instead, he glances down to the cloth in his hand and exclaims in surprise, "Gods, I'm bleeding."

"You should probably clean it up," you say, feeling something akin to amusement at the human's indignant splutters.

This time, you do not have the will to suppress the emotion.

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_And an unlikely friendship started . . . _

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**A/N:** Unbeta'ed so all errors you see are mine.

I'm trying on a new writing style in which I give as little details as possible and let the readers' imagination fill in the gap. Whenever I get descriptive, the pace of the story lags and it gets boring so I hope this is better. :D

Kindly point out any glaring errors you see. Constructive criticisms are very much welcomed!

Have an incredibly awesome day, everyone!

~ Vividpast


	2. Chapter Two

**WARNINGS:** There's the plot twist y'all probably saw coming. Kinda SLASHY if you think about it but it is mainly FRIENDSHIP.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favorites! It really inspired me to write out the next chapters. I hope this chapter does not disappoint.

**merlin's fan**: MY first flame ever! OMG. I'm sorry you really think so but thank you for taking the time to review.

**DISCLAIMER: **Characters are from BBC Merlin. Plot is from a manga. I don't own either of them.

Enjoy~

**CHAPTER TWO**

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_It was a friendship caused not by any kind of enchantment but born out of the shared loneliness of their souls._

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The human fearlessly enters the cave once more after having cleaned up his head wound at a nearby river, dark hair dripping wet. Half of you thought the human would have used the opportunity to run as far away from the cave as possible. Clearly, his stupidity knows no bounds.

"Can't it be melted?" he asks without preamble, flopping down near the embers of the dying fire. "The ice, I mean." He gestures to the whole of your body.

You merely cock a brow in reply. He sighs in exasperation. "Okay, fine. Stupid question." He mutters something else under his breath that makes you raise your brows in surprise.

"You started the fire to melt the ice?" you exclaim in disbelief. If there is any doubt before, there is no doubt now; this human has a mental affliction. "Aside from the clearly delusional solution to my problem, what if it had worked? You really would let a creature such as me go and wreak havoc?"

He shrugs, lower lip jutting out in a pout. Something very close to endearment stirs in your chest at the sight. It is one of the expressions you have never seen in years.

"Maybe I just want to let the world burn," he huffs in reply. Then, with a solemnity that takes you aback, he added, "Besides, you haven't eaten me. And you liked my apples. There's hope for you yet."

"The only reason I haven't eaten you yet is because I might catch your stupidity," you drawl out.

He grins. "Then don't eat any more people, Arthur. They're incredibly stupid nowadays. Wouldn't want to pass on that foolishness to your evil lordship."

You couldn't stop the chuckle that bubbles in your chest and spills from your throat. The sound echoes in the cavern, deep and unfamiliar to your ears. Both you and human are surprised by it.

He blinks confusedly for a few moments before the grin is back, brighter than before. "So you do know how to laugh," he says with a chuckle. He leans back, palms supporting his weight. He is the very picture of relaxed.

"I do," you respond. _I've just forgotten how for the longest time_.

In your ears, you hear a _thump-thump_ that must have been the rocks knocking in the cave. You wonder why it sounds so near your chest.

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_Nonetheless, it was a friendship that blossomed quickly and strongly in the dark little cave._

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The human's loquaciousness rears its head in the next few hours. He talks about his life as a mere farmer in his village. He narrates the pranks he and his best friend Will played when they were little. He talks about his mother; how kind and clever she was as she taught him how to read and write. He talks about his wise grandmother who used to tell him myths and legends. His voice lowers as he tells you how Will was recruited by their tyrant of a king to fight in a silly war and how Will never came back. His eyes shine as he narrates how his mother and grandmother was taken by the plague just last winter.

"It was quick and painless," he says, voice cracking but the smile on his face is genuine. "But we were able to say our goodbyes. They passed away peacefully and without regrets. It's a good way to go as any." His hand comes to massage his chest again as if easing a phantom pain in his heart.

You do not feel sympathetic at his plight, per say. But you realize that he is alone now and the thought makes something throb painfully in your chest.

"I was a king," you confess, wanting to reciprocate the human's honesty. His blue eyes turn to you with undivided attention. You avert your eyes from his gaze. "My father banned sorcery and in my reign, I did too. I . . . have people who even showed the slightest inclination to the dark arts executed without a trial. Some . . . Some of them were children and I'm sure some of them were innocent."

You chance a glance towards him. You see nothing but an open expression urging you to continue. So you do.

"My sister . . . She practiced magic right under my nose. She wasn't happy with me," you let out a humorless laugh. "Understatement of the century, that one. She's always been so righteous, willing to break the law if she deems it right. She was furious at the killings I ordered, especially on those children. And so . . ." You gesture at the cave with your head.

"She was the one that trapped you here," he finishes.

You pause, deciding whether or not you should say the next bit. After a few seconds of contemplation, seeing no harm in it, you continue, "She told me that the only thing that can break the enchantment is a pure tear. It's a tear that's born out of pure sincerity and sorrow."

His eyes are wide as he breathes, "A Jewel Tear."

You frown in confusion. "What?"

"My grandma used to tell me about it," he sounds giddy. "When the grief of a person is so great, they can cry a tear that will turn into the most precious jewel. Legend has it that it can grant any wish!"

"Does it really exist?" you ask, hope flaring in your chest.

The human nods vigorously. "My grandma swears by it. In her lifetime, she had seen only one instance of it but she vows Jewel Tears do exist."

"I've been looking for it," you say. "Every human that comes in here, I threaten to kill in hopes they can cry the tear I'm looking for."

At that, he casts you an undecipherable look. "You think that there's no deeper sorrow than a man facing his own death?"

"More or less." You shrug. "But maybe I'm wrong. _You_ don't seem to be afraid."

When the human's lips quirk, it is more of a grimace than a smile. "I guess I'm not especially afraid to die." You wonder at the strange inflection in his voice. "And I think you're wrong." He looks at you, pity evident in his gaze. "Humans might be selfish creatures but the good ones? Their deepest sorrows are for others, Arthur."

"You think I shouldn't kill any more?" You know that is what the human is trying to preach.

However, instead of admitting it, he just shrugs. "Do what you want. But I don't think you're going to find a Jewel Tear that way."

He says nothing else for an hour, leaving you to contemplate his statement.

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You don't know how you got talked into this.

"Do you want me to be defenseless? Is that it?" you grumble.

"Ooh, stop whining. You still have the hair on your head. I'm not going to cut those off," he chastises. His palm is practically burning against the ice-cold skin of your chin. "I'm almost done. Stay still." The cold steel of the small knife so near your throat forces you to heed the advice.

The dirty blonde hair of your beard scatters on the ground, chunks by chunks. The human's hand is precise and deft, making sure the knife doesn't nick your skin. Your chin feels light, almost smooth.

"There," he beams and pulls the knife away with a flourish. His eyes rove around your face. You would have flush at the attention had you the blood circulation to do so. As it is, you just squirm. "Look at you," he gasps dramatically. "I never knew a handsome king would be hiding under all that grime!" He boldly pinches your cheeks.

You would have swat him with your hair had they not been heavy and wet. The human has spent the last few hours cleaning your long hair, scrubbing all the visible skin above the ice, and shaving your beard. The thought of being clean is amiable so you did nothing to discourage his endeavor.

"It's fruitless. I'll get dirty again eventually." Still, it doesn't mean you would admit to liking it.

"Don't be so pessimistic," he tutted. "Maybe you'll get out sometimes soon."

"Be sad or afraid, then," you say sarcastically. "Cry me pure tears, human."

He lets out a theatrical gasp, making his eyes wide. "Oh majestic demon, I do not want to die, sob, sob, sob. Spare my pitiful life, sob, sob," he acts out exaggeratedly, wiping an imaginary tear at the corner of his eye.

You roll your eyes and he laughs, clapping you on the shoulder. "Not to worry, Arthur. I'm sure someone out there will just stroll into the cave and—"

He cuts off with a sharp cry, doubling over. Because of his close proximity, his forehead thumps against your shoulder. The small knife clatters noisily to the ground. One hand fists over your hair for support while the other clutches his chest. Your eyes widen in surprise and for a moment, you forgot that your arms are immobile and you try to reach for him. You swear, in that second, that you feel your nonexistent heartbeat skip.

"H-Hey, don't pull my hair," you say instead of the frantic and worried inquiries waiting at the tip of your tongue.

You hear his harsh breaths and the fast beating of his heart. For the first time since he entered, you smell a trace of fear on him. But it is gone after a short moment as his stance relaxes. His body sags against yours, a line of warmth against any of your exposed skin. You feel the cold recede once more. This time, you are sure that the_ thump-thump_ you hear is a heartbeat. And it is not the human's.

"Merlin?" you inquire after several minutes of silence.

He chuckles softly, breath moist against your cheek. "That's the first time you said my name." He releases a sigh that sounds like resignation before backing away.

The cold comes back to your being but, unlike before, it isn't as unbearable. Some of the heat remains simmering under your skin. But you ignore all that in favor of looking for any injuries on the human's body.

"Merlin, are you alright?" the question escapes unbidden from your mouth.

"Yeah," he runs a hand through his hair. The newly lit fire casts his face in an all too pale glamour. "I'm just tired, I guess. Cleaning up centuries' worth of grime is no easy task."

You frown, worry gnawing silently at you. "You should rest for a while then."

"Good idea," he agrees, unsteadily walking near the fire. He lays down beside it once more, using his satchel as a pillow. "Wake me up in a few hours, yeah?"

You do not even finish nodding before he falls into slumber.

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_But the young man had a terrible, terrible secret, you see._

_The people knew he entered the cave without any regard for his own safety. People would whisper how foolish or brave he was._

_But few would ask the most important question; Why would a young man risk his life just to see if the demon existed?_

_Why indeed._

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"_How do I know this 'pure tear' really exist?" you rage against the ice bounding you to the rocks._

_She pauses at the entryway, contemplating. Then, she half-turns, ruby lips upturned in a saccharine (no, _**bittersweet**_)_ _smile. "There is another way to break the enchantment."_

_Hope flares bright and warm in your chest. "How?"_

_She chuckles (not ominously, no. __**Sadly, humorlessly**__). Her mouth opens to say, "Two things that come hand in hand, Arthur. The first one, you should feel most sincerely. The second, I should give you freely." She gives you a pitiful glance. "But these two things are more impossible than the pure tear, my King."_

"_Stop it with your riddles!" you shout._

_She straightens, eyes narrowing with contempt. She replies . . ._

Your eyes blink open to see a blue gaze upon you.

"I told you to wake me in a few hours and then you fall asleep," Merlin huffs indignantly. "Some friend you are."

You blink at the term. _Friend_. The word leaves you bewildered, especially since Merlin is referring to you. No one has ever said the term when pertaining to you, even before you got locked up in here. The fact that Merlin refers to you as _friend_ leaves a warm ball of delight in your heart.

Well, if Merlin's going to be a _friend_, then that means you can tell him anything. Right? You are new to this whole . . . _friendship_ thing but you want to try.

So you open your mouth to tell him about your dream. "There's another way—"

"I have to tell you—"

Merlin and you both start at the same time. You cut off just as he does. You both blink confoundedly at the other.

"You first then," you relent. You finally remember the other way to break the enchantment and your sister is right, it is more impossible than anything else. You want to get Merlin's thoughts on the matter but that can wait.

"Alright. I have to tell you something," he starts, eyes somber and tone solemn. "If—If you want to kill me after, feel free to do so. But know that I was born with this and I didn't choose it. And not all people that have it a-are bad, you know. I think it's like a sword, can be used to protect or to kill. Or something—"

"You're ranting," you interject, knowing Merlin could go on for several minutes without ever getting to a point.

He exhales a deep breath. He bites his lip, hesitating. Then, he raises a closed fist and whispered, "_Forbearnan_". Opening his hand, he reveals reveal a tiny flame dancing and hovering atop his palm. It doesn't seem to be burning him.

You stare blankly. "You're a sorcerer."

He looks at you, gauging your reaction. "Yes. But I'm not powerful or even trained. That's the only spell I know." His lips twist in a self-deprecating smile. "My magic's utterly useless."

You don't know how to feel about it. For years after your imprisonment, you have cursed all sorcerers and magic practitioners. You pour your hate into them, blaming them for your fate. But as the years stretched by, you discriminate no longer. You hate humans, magic or no magic.

Merlin is the first human you do not treat with contempt.

So what does it mean if he has magic?

"Are you going to eat me?" Merlin asks, tone as casual as it can be. He really does not fear death.

"No . . . I . . . no," you reply. "I told you I'll spare you and I will."

"Oh," there is a note of disappointment in his tone that you know you must have imagined. "That's that then. What is it that you want to tell me earlier?"

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the unexpected revelation. You want to tell him about the other way to break the spell. However, his expression makes you hesitate. He knows of your hatred for all things magic. He does not know that the hatred is useless now and has been for a long time.

So you say, "I regret it, you know."

"Regret what?"

"Executing so many innocent people," you force the words out of your suddenly dry mouth. "I was blinded by my prejudice. Just because you have magic does not make you automatically evil."

If you could go back in time, you would do things differently. You would not order your knights to steal away those children from their parents. You would fire all executioners and give proper trials to all. And most of all, you will listen to your sister more instead of foolishly dismissing her arguments. You will weep at her feet and beg for forgiveness, not to escape punishment for your crimes but to bring back the closeness you two once had.

Merlin says nothing, merely giving you an encouraging look. Perhaps because he knows no words could alleviate your guilt. Still, you are glad for his presence. You dare not to think how it would should you have been alone.

For the next hour, you spill all you guilt and regrets.

After that, you're breathing hard. You feel near to tears but you know that is impossible. You lost your tears long before you were even cursed here.

"She forgives you." The words makes you whip your head at Merlin. "I'm sure she does."

"She's most probably dead," you just say in reply, too exhausted to gather up your anger at the bold-faced lie Merlin is telling.

"My grandma told me no one can hold a grudge that long, especially on family," Merlin reasons, expression belying the truth he believes in his words. "My grandma had someone like that—someone who hurt her beyond belief. She said hatred is too heavy to hold onto for so long and time had healed all her wounds. She had forgiven the people that had hurt her. I'm sure your sister did too." He says it so sincerely that you desperately want to believe him.

Merlin's grandmother truly sounds like a wise woman. You say nothing for a moment. "I guess I'll never know."

But you breath comes easier and your chest feel lighter than ever.

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After several minutes of silence, a notion that you have pushed at the back of your mind rears its way into your thoughts. "Come here," you say to a solemn Merlin.

Merlin blinks. "What? Why?" Even as he questions it, he complies, standing up. He walks towards you and stops a few feet away.

"Closer," you say. Befuddled, Merlin walks closer nonetheless. When he is only a few inches away, you asked, "Put your hand on my chest."

His brows raise to his hairline. "You want me to molest you?"

You cock a brow. "You seem to have no compunction doing it earlier."

"Well, you didn't stop me so I thought it was fine with you but now you're _asking_. And that's kind of weird—"

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Stop babbling and just do it."

"Alright, alright."

As his palm rests right on top of your chest, the heat courses through your veins yet again. You think this is how sunlight would feel against your skin, warm and comforting. A part of you wish there and then that Merlin would never leave so you can have not only this warmth but also the company. You can admit now that you will miss him when he leaves. You can only converse with the rocks to a point.

"You have a heartbeat," Merlin breathes out, confirming your suspicions. He gives a short bark of laughter, looking awed and puzzled at the same time. "You have a heartbeat, Arthur."

"It feels warm whenever you touch me," you admit. "It's nice."

"Really?" Merlin gives you a soft fond smile. Without preamble, he wraps his arms around the back your neck, drawing himself closer to you. "Better?"

_thump-thump (thump-thump) thump-thump (thump-thump)_

You can feel his heartbeat and yours, matching in rhythm. You smell, aptly, apples on him. The fluttery feeling in your chest traverse down to your stomach. You hum in reply, burying your head at the crook of his neck.

You do not know what these sensations mean. It must be something good, you think. Nothing evil could make you feel afloat amongst the clouds.

_thump-thump (thump-thump) thump-thump (thump-thump)_

"Maybe I could melt the ice," Merlin mutters with amusement.

"Like you could, idiot," you reply fondly.

"But it is a bit warmer, no?"

You close your eyes, savoring the heat simmering beneath your skin and the feel of a soft body against you. Touch-starved, you would describe yourself. But now, you feel as if spring has arrived after a long winter. "Maybe."

You both stay silent after that.

_thump-thump (thump . . . thump) thump-thump (th-th-thump-thump)_

You open your eyes, frowning.

"I'm glad I met you, Arthur," Merlin says sincerely, voice low and small.

_thump-thump (thump-t-th-thump) thump-thump (th-th-thump-thump)_

"Merlin?"

"You're alright, you know, if a bit of a prat," There's a hitch in his breath when he chuckles. "Definitely kinder than the demon people say you are."

_thump-thump (thu-t-thu-thump) thump-thump (th-th-thu-thump)_

You cannot smell any fear on him. So why is it that his heart is racing?

"Merlin, wha—"

"If you ever get hungry again, my body is yours for the taking," he chuckles again but you hear the serious undertone in his voice.

You do not know why he is saying such things. You thought you are already past this killing-eating thing. Some notion trickles at the forefront of your mind, foreboding in essence.

_thump-thump (thu-th-thu-thump-thump) thump-thump (th-th-thu-thump-thump)_

Merlin cries out in apparent agony, arms circling tighter around your neck.

You feel frantic now. "Merlin? What's wrong? What hurts?" You do not know what is happening, only that Merlin is hurting and you want to ease his pain.

_thump-thump (thu-th-thu-thump-thump) thump-thump (th-th-thu-thump-thump)_

He wheezes badly, chest heaving. "Ah . . . sorry."

Why is he apologizing? "Merlin, please," It's something bad, you know. Dread pools around your stomach, stealing your breath.

"My death is coming, Arthur," he whispers against your cheek.

_thump . . . thump (thu-th-thu-thump-thump) thump-thump (th-th-thu-thump-thump)_

Your heart skips a beat at the words. Suddenly, you feel cold all over; the kind of cold with which the ice cannot even compare.

"I have a s-sick heart that can be c-cured by nothing," Merlin says, panting. "My mother is d-dead and I don't w-want to bother the v-villagers with my body."

_thump-thump (thu-th-thu-thump-thump) thump-thump (thump-thump)_

"No . . ." you deny, eyes wide.

"I ca-came here to . . ." Merlin lets out a shaky exhale, cutting himself off. "Whe-When you're told at a young age th-that you can die a-at any day, you learn to stop f-fearing death." He pulls back just so his face is a few inches away from your own shocked one.

_thump-thump-thump (thump . thump) thump-thump-thump (thump . . thump)_

Merlin places his hands on your shoulder, fingers tickling your neck. He looks so sad and resigned. For the first time, his blue eyes do not glimmer as he meets yours.

"So, s-sorry, Arthur. I-I cannot cry a Jewel Tear for you." His lips twist in a wan but genuine smile. His hands come up on both your cheeks, shaky but gentle. "However, I can give you a little warmth for a while."

_thump-thump-thump (thump . . . thump) thump-thump-thump (thump . . . . thump)_

"Merlin, stop, please, don't—" You cut off with a choke, unable to speak around the sudden lump in your throat.

You couldn't believe it; you refuse to believe it. Your heart races with an undecipherable feeling that sets your head abuzz and makes your chest tight. "D-Don't leave," you plead, voice cracking.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he murmurs, sounding near to tears. "I'm truly sorry."

Fear, you realize. That is what you're feeling.

_thump-thump-thump (thump . . . . . thump) thump-thump-thump (thump . . . . . . thump)_

Your hair hovers agitatedly around you both, darting inches closer to Merlin but never touching him. You wish you could hold him in your arms, force his spirit to _stay_.

As if your thoughts are magic, to your great surprise, the ice on your right side cracks and breaks. Your side is suddenly free in a shower of diamond-ice pieces. Your right arm, warm and bleeding with the cuts made by stray shards, automatically wraps itself around Merlin's waist.

Not even five seconds later, the ice on your left follows—it shatters, leaving all your skin exposed to the fire-warmed air of the cave. You stumble unsteadily to your feet, Merlin swaying with you. Your left arms joins the right around him as Merlin seems unable to support his own weight.

The human seems not to notice, exhaling a deep wheezing breath.

_thump-thump-thump (thump . . . . . . ) thump-thump-thump ( . . . . . . . . )_

Later, you will realize that it is Merlin's last breath.

For now, you stare in amazement at your free arms and legs. They feel heavy and painful to use but you can feel warm blood flowing through them. "The ice—how?" How did you break the enchantment? There are no Jewel Tears around to do so.

You shake your head. No, Merlin is more important. You will figure that out later.

"Merlin?" You start to bring a hand to his head and promptly place it again at Merlin's back as his body nearly falls to the ground.

You lower both Merlin and yourself to the ground, maneuvering him in a comfortable position. "Merlin?"

_thump-thump-thump ( . . . . . . . . ) thump-thump-thump ( . . . . . . . . )_

His head lolls to the side and you bring up a hand to support it. His eyes are closed, face relaxed as if he is sleeping. Your breath leaves you with a _whoosh_ at the sight.

"Merlin? Wake up," you beg, voice trembling. "Wake up, you idiot."

His chest is still and you can hear nothing but your own heartbeat. You know the truth as you are presented with the cold hard facts. You clutch Merlin's body like a lifeline, refusing to accept the cruel reality.

"I'm free now, Merlin," you croak. "You wanted to see me free, didn't you? You wanted the ice to melt. So wake up and see." You close your eyes against the almost physical pain throbbing in your chest. "Please."

The sob that tears out of your throat is loud and pitiful. Nonetheless, it is followed by another wail and another. Your shoulders shake with your cries, and something wet trickles down your cheek.

Merlin is still warm but his heart has already stopped.

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_To not burden the people with a body so close to death, the young man had travelled to the cave to find his demise._

_He did not expect to find a friend but he is glad for it._

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**A/N:** Unbeta'ed so all errors you see are mine.

You guys probably saw that one coming from the start, especially since I have a habit of killing Merlin in my stories. Still, I hope it was a little bit sad or touching. :D

How did the spell break? TRUE LOVE OF COURSE. Nah, just kidding. I promise it's NOT true love. But can you guys guess it? "_Two things that come hand in hand, Arthur. The first one, you should feel most sincerely. The second, I should give you freely."_ Probably obvious but shhhhh, let's pretend I'm good at riddles and foreshadowing.

All the answers will be answered in the next chapter . . . when I eventually finish it. But well, you can all consider this as the last chapter if you want. *runs away*

Kindly point out any glaring errors you see. Constructive criticisms are very much welcomed!

Have an incredibly awesome day, everyone!

~ Vividpast


	3. Chapter Three

**WARNINGS:** DEUS EX MACHINA to pull a happy ending. Kinda SLASHY if you think about it but it is mainly FRIENDSHIP.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favorites! LAST CHAPTER! Do you know the feeling of finally being able to finish a story? It's great! Now if only I have the muse to finish my other stories . . .

**DISCLAIMER: **Characters are from BBC Merlin. Plot is from a manga. I don't own either of them.

Enjoy~

**CHAPTER THREE**

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You do not know how long you knelt there, clutching the body of your friend. Your arms are cramping and your legs are numb. When you open your eyes, they throb and sting. Wretchedness and exhaustion settles deeply in your very bones.

You hear the clicks of the wood on the dying bonfire. From the corner of your eyes, you see red embers flying into the wind. You take no notice of these things, all attention on the corpse lying between your arms.

Fingertips touch the pale cheek; you hope for a miracle that you know would never happen. You squeeze your eyes briefly, wondering why any one would want to be human when they can feel such loss and grief so keenly.

When you open your eyes, you catch a small glitter on the ground. You look around the cave. All the other ice that has entrapped you has long melted, leaving wet patches on the ground. What has made this shard different? Smooth cold stone meets your skin as you reach out to grab ahold of it.

It is a gem, not ice like you first thought; it is no bigger than you thumbnail and as thick as your littlest finger. When it catches the firelight, it gives off a surreal white light. It has no facets, smooth to the touch and almost transparent in the eyes.

You stare and stare in wary hope at the miracle you have desperately wished for.

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_The ice-cold demon had always searched for the Jewel Tear that can grant any wish; it was a pure tear that could free him from his long imprisonment._

_The demon_—_once without blood, without remorse and without tears—had experienced sorrow as he watched his friend die. So great was his grief that he had cried for the first time in centuries. So great was his grief that the first tear of the once ice-cold creature crystallized into the most precious and purest of gems._

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"_Grandma?" Merlin calls out, little feet padding into his grandma's room. He rubs his eyes with one hand while the other grips a small blue blanket._

_The old woman pauses in her writing, her wrinkled face turning to him. Her dark hair is mostly gray now, always kept in a loose bun to hide its thinness. The candle light casts her face in an eerie glow._

_She asks patiently, vibrant green eyes curious, "Nightmares, my dear?"_

_Merlin shrugs. "I don't know. Where's Mum?"_

"_She's staying over at your Uncle Gaius', remember?" she answers, a small smile on her lips. "What is it, dear?"_

_Merlin frowns, thinking. Then, he raises his eyes to look pleadingly at the old woman. "She usually tells me stories. I can't fall asleep without a story, Grandma!"_

_She chuckles softly, the sound croaky but no less charming. With a whisper and a flash of gold in her eyes, the parchment on the table rolls itself up, the quill places itself on the holder, and the ink bottle closes its lid. She beckons Merlin and without further ado, he clambers up onto his grandma's lap. Merlin claps excitedly, as he always does whenever his grandma performs magic._

"_Calm down, Merlin," she admonishes, a gnarly hand coming to massage the boy's chest. Merlin doesn't even realize the ache in his heart until it's suddenly gone. "You know you need to tone down your excitement."_

"_Yes, Grandma," Merlin says obediently, breathing deeply and trying to normalize his heartbeat._

"_Did I tell you about the demon king that's trap in ice?"_

"_Mum told me about it," Merlin says and recites proudly. "It's about a king who got so greedy, he started hurting people. He made a deal with the devil and became a demon himself! Then, a shaman locked him up in a cave so he couldn't hurt anyone any more."_

_She gives Merlin an amused glance. "It seems your mother's got her own unique version of it."_

_Curious, Merlin asks, "What do you mean?"_

"_The king did hurt people but it's not because of his greediness," she starts, tapping his nose. "but because of his prejudice. He ordered executions of innocent people just because they have magic."_

_Merlin gasps, horrified. "He killed people like us?"_

_His grandma's smile twist into something dark. "Yes," But it returns to its kind one after a moment. "But the blame does not fully lie on him. His father, the king before him, had raised him to fear those that does magic."_

_Merlin listens eagerly to the legendary story of pain and heartbreak; his grandma's tale is riveting, the way she describes the secret magical training the king's sister underwent to overthrow her tyrant of a brother. Her voice is low as she narrates how the sister used her powerful magic to entrap the king in a cave far out of the kingdom._

"_Only the purest of tears born from extreme sincerity and sorrow can free the king. It's called a Jewel Tear," she says. "It is said to grant anything you wish for. So should the king manage to get one, he can wish himself free from his prison."_

"_Anything?" Merlin murmurs from his comfortable perch in his grandma's arms. His hand unconsciously goes on top of his chest. Merlin shuffles in his seat to face his grandma. "Even cure a sickness that couldn't be cured?" he inquires with big hopeful eyes._

"_Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry," Her hand runs through his hair, a dismayed expression on her face. "I'm afraid Jewel Tears are rare. I've only ever seen one in my lifetime."_

"_Oh." Merlin couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. His grandma have lived for a very long time. If she had only seen one . . . "It's alright. I just . . ."_

_His grandma draws him closer and tighter, rubbing his back tenderly. Merlin closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of her embrace and inhaling the smell of herbs from her clothes. Merlin feels melancholic for a moment, his hopes raised in one second and dashed in another. But, as his mother keeps on telling him, he must always have hope because the gods may not always be merciful but they are never outright cruel. He's saddened but he doesn't regret being hopeful all the same._

_Shaking off his sadness, he asks instead, "Isn't it cruel, Grandma? That the only thing that can break the spell is something almost impossible?"_

_His grandma stills, body going stiff for a brief second before she relaxes again._

"_The pure tear can break any enchantment because of its wish-granting powers. But, you see, Merlin, every spell has a unique something that can always unmake it," she replies, voice flat. Then, she continues in a much lighter tone, "Most spells can be broken by the most powerful thing on this earth. Do you know what that is?"_

_Merlin contemplates the question for a moment. Then, his eyes brightens as he answers, "Mum's love!"_

_She releases a short and fond chuckle. "Close. True love, Merlin, is the most powerful magic in the world."_

"_And that can break the king's curse?"_

_The old woman shakes her head. "No. The particular spell the sister casted is an ancient one performed by high priestesses on unremorseful murderers. It's an enchantment that enacts justice. And justice is only served when it has two things. Can you guess what that is?" she challenges._

_Merlin shakes his head. He doesn't even know what the word 'justice' means! He hears all the time but Mum said that he'll know about it when he's older._

_When his grandma answers, her smile is brittle and her emerald eyes shimmer in the candlelight. "The remorse of the accused and the forgiveness of the victim."_

_Merlin frowns, not understanding half of the words in the sentence. Merlin says as much and his grandma chuckles again._

"_The king should be really sorry for what he'd done and his sister should find it in her heart to forgive him," she reiterates._

_Merlin's eyes widened in disbelief. "It's that easy? The king should just say sorry?"_

"_It's not as easy as it sounds, Merlin, especially since the king regretted nothing," she replies, slightly patronizing. Her lips purses into a thin line. "And the sister's heart had turned hard and bitter by then." At his nonplus expression, she says, "You'll understand when you're older."_

_With that, Merlin dismisses the whole issue as an unexplainable grown-up thing. "So what happened then?"_

_Merlin dozes off after a while but never truly fall into slumber. He is alert at certain parts; the sister ruled the kingdom in place of the tyrant king. But her reign was as terrifying as her brother's for she had also been as prejudiced as him. However, unlike the king, she was lenient towards magic-users and cruel to ungifted people. And, being a creature of magic, she barely aged and her reign lasted over a hundred years. Over the years, she became bitter, filled with utter contempt for the brother she knew she would never forgive. But the longer she held onto her hatred, the heavier her heart was and the weaker her magic became._

"_Magic is a pure thing, you see," his grandma says in a matter-of-fact tone. With a flat tone, she continues. "It doesn't thrive in things that are negative or evil. And there is no greater evil in this world than complete hatred."_

_His grandma narrates how the sister woke up one morning with the barest of magical ability. She tells Merlin how she promptly relinquished the throne to a cousin. Merlin falls asleep as his grandma is telling him how the sister travelled into unknown lands in search for something to bring her magic back. The old woman tells the sleeping child how unsuccessful the sister's journey was. But in her quest, she met a wonderful man with whom she fell in love and settled down with. She narrates how the man and their daughter greatly lessened the bitterness in her heart. And the sister might be starting to forgive and forget all the evil deeds her brother had done._

_The old woman kisses the top of Merlin's head, vibrant green eyes shining with tears, and whispers how the gods are just but merciless in punishing her for her sins; how the sister sorely wished she had the magic to cure her beloved grandson._

_That night, Merlin's sleep is peaceful as he dreams of finding the Jewel Tear and running wild in a field of flowers, heart beating fast but never paining him._

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Merlin blinks awake to a bright light and promptly squeezed his eyes shut. Slowly, he opens them again and lets them adjust. When he becomes accustom to the lighting, he realizes that the bright light is actually the sun. He sees an expanse of very blue sky, interfered only by fluffy white clouds. The sunlight feels good against his skin and the cool breeze prevents him from getting uncomfortably hot. The soft grass underneath his fingertips are dewy but he's too contented to do anything about it.

_So this is the afterlife_, he thinks. He could get used to this. For a moment, he just lays there, enjoying the moment.

Then, a shadow abruptly blocks the sun from Merlin's view. The shadow has a face set in a concerned expression.

"Gah!" Merlin cries out, almost jumping out of his skin in surprise. He sits upright, eyes never leaving the figure in front of him.

The man's expression turns into one of amusement, watching Merlin's clumsy flailing. Merlin knows that expression. His eyes track down to the short flaxen hair, bright blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, quirked lips, and the smooth strong jaw.

"Arthur?" Merlin gapes, recognizing the features. The man before him raises an unimpressed brow. "You cut your hair!" is the first thing Merlin notices.

Arthur runs a hand through his blonde locks, now barely reaching his ears. "It kept getting in my eyes. It was annoying," he answers, flopping down beside Merlin.

Merlin considers the answer very reasonable. Then, "Wait, you-you're free!" is the second thing he notices. "And you're wearing my spare clothes!"

"An astute observation, _Mer_lin," Arthur replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone. Merlin's tunic is a bit tight around the former king's shoulders and middle, and the trousers are too short to reach his ankles. But Arthur seems comfortable enough. "What other things have you come to deduce? That the sky is blue, perhaps?"

Merlin opens and closes his mouth a few time, imitating a fish out of water. "But how—You were—" He splutters, trying to find the words. "This is the afterlife!" As he says it, realization hits him like a ton of rocks. Merlin stares at Arthur, devastated. "You're dead too? H-How did it happen?" Someone must have killed Arthur while he was entrapped in the cave. The notion makes Merlin sick. But, the selfish part of himself is glad that Arthur's here with Merlin. He never did learn how to let go of his friends.

But Arthur rolls his eyes, looking at Merlin as if he's being purposely obtuse to annoy Arthur. The former king points a thumb at a familiar rock formation behind him. "Do you really think the afterlife would have that cursed cave?"

Merlin glances and sees the entrance of the cave that housed the demon king. Well, _once_ housed the demon king, it seems. He blinks, trying to process the implication of that.

"How did you break the spell?" Merlin asks with wide fascinated eyes, extremely curious. After all, it's not everyday he gets to see an ancient enchantment being lifted.

Arthur frowns in thought, bewilderment evident on his face. "I don't know. The ice—It just shattered and melted. Next thing I know, my hands and legs are free." His eyes are averted and his hands clenches into a fist as he adds, "And you, a dead weight in my arms." Merlin is simultaneously heartened and guilty at the obvious pain he hears in Arthur's voice.

The last statement brings Merlin back to the last thing he remembers. "Oh gods, I was dying. I'm dead. I'm supposed to be dead!"

Merlin amazedly stares down on his hands, spreading his fingers apart and turning them in various directions. He gives himself a proper look to see if he is somehow a ghost now. He's still wearing the same clothes and boots. He's not really semi-transparent and he still has his feet so Merlin takes those as good signs.

But he couldn't be mistaken. He had felt the tell-tale start of an attack, one that would make his heart palpitate painfully for several agonizing seconds and make him incredibly exhausted afterwards. Merlin knew in that moment that it was the last and final one; the attack had preceded his death. He didn't _how_ he knew, just that he did. Dread and dismay warred inside him before he just felt a weary acceptance of his fate.

"So, how am I still alive?" he inquires, incredulity and hope in his tone. He meets Arthur's gaze, sure that the former king had something to do with it.

Arthur couldn't seem to meet his eyes, blue orbs looking somewhere over Merlin's shoulder. He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. "I don't know either." The whole charade would have worked if Arthur's cheeks didn't suddenly turn an embarrassed red.

"You're blushing!" It ends with an amazed laugh because Merlin couldn't believe what he's seeing. He knows Arthur already has a heartbeat but he only now realizes that it must mean his blood circulation is back.

"No, I'm not," Arthur replies hotly, quickly getting to his feet. He is a few feet away before Merlin decides to get up as well.

He becomes lightheaded, vision blackening for a long moment. In that time, he does not know which way is up or down. His heart (!) races for some unknown reason. When he comes to, he feels a hand on the small of his back, supporting him.

"Perhaps it's too soon to stand up," Arthur say, frowning in concern. "You just died a few hours after all."

The warmth of Arthur's hand seeps through his clothing, a sharp contrast to the ice-cold skin Merlin had touched in the cave.

"I'm alright," Merlin waves a flippant. The dizziness is already starting to fade so there is no need to worry. He gives Arthur an overly curious look. "So? What really happened? I can't just suddenly come back to life like that!"

The former king's lips purses into a thin line. He opens his mouth and after a few moments of just gaping, he closes them again. He does it a few more times, each time leaving Merlin more amused and confused than before. But Merlin is patient so he waits for Arthur to gather his thoughts.

"There was a Jewel Tear," he finally says. "I wished you back to life."

Merlin takes a few moments to process this information, blinking stupidly for a few seconds. When he does, his jaw slackens with shock and his eyes widen. "A . . . You found a Jewel Tear?" He couldn't believe he was dead for this. He wants to see a Jewel Tear so badly! "What did it look like? Did you feel it's magic? Where is it now?"

Arthur merely cocks a brow at the barrage of questions. "It looked like a normal gemstone. I felt nothing. It disappeared as soon as I wished on it," he answers.

Merlin sighs in disappointment. Maybe he'll see a Jewel Tear someday. He perks up after a while, looking at his hands. "I can't believe the Jewel Tear can bring people back from the dead."

Arthur is silent for a moment before he replies casually, "It has its price."

Merlin snaps his head towards his friend so fast, his neck gives a twinge. "And what was the price, Arthur?" he demands, horrified at the implication. He was prepared to die! He doesn't want Arthur or anyone else to sacrifice anything just so he could live. "What did you have to give up?"

"It was nothing important," Arthur shrugs before striding away towards . . . Merlin's satchel? Merlin honestly forgot about that thing.

But before Arthur could go more than a few steps, Merlin places a hand on his shoulder. Arthur stills, getting the message. The former king turns, giving Merlin an undecipherable look.

"What did you give?"

Arthur lets out a resigned sigh. He encircles hand around Merlin's wrist. He guides Merlin's palm to rest on his chest. Merlin is befuddled for a few seconds before he realizes something amiss.

"You have no heartbeat," he breathes out. He meets Arthur's blank gaze. "But you had one! Back in the cave, you showed me—" Merlin is certain he felt the _thump-thump_ on the man's chest before. However, now, he feels nothing but deafening silence.

"You needed a new heart." Again, Arthur shrugs as if it is nothing. But his eyes are on Merlin, seemingly gauging his reaction to the news.

Unconsciously, Merlin's other hand goes towards his own chest. He feels the healthy beating inside of his ribcage. He hears the pumping of his blood in his ears.

Then, the implication of his friend's statement sinks in. "You gave me your heart?" Merlin blinks, repeats the statement to himself, and he _couldn't_ help it, alright. He grins. "Oh, Arthur," he says in a high-pitched voice, giving a small swoon. "I didn't know you could be so rom—"

"Finish that sentence and I will end you." Arthur threatens with no real heat, a red blush dusting his cheeks once more.

"See! You're blushing! How can that be when you don't have any heart anymore?" Merlin asks, sobering up. "You're warm and alive!"

Arthur's brows furrows in confusion. "I don't even begin to comprehend how magic works. But for some reason, the heart beats for both of us."

"Both of us?" Merlin frowns in thought, dropping his hands from both their chests. "What does that imply?"

Merlin's new heart suddenly starts beating fast for no apparent reason. A small amount of dread slithers in him, wondering if this new one will be as diseased as the old one just because it's inside Merlin.

"Do you feel that?" Arthur's voice snaps him out of his morbid thoughts. "It's beating fast?"

Merlin nods, looking at the former king for answers. But then, epiphany hits him like a ton of bricks. "I can feel what you're feeling?" His voice raises in incredulity.

"More or less, I think," Arthur answers, averting his eyes in what seems to be embarrassment.

Merlin opens and closes his mouth a few times, unable to think of anything to say to that. Arthur waits, staring at him for a few seconds. When Merlin doesn't say anything, the former king sighs in exasperation and turns on his heel.

"We better get going," he says, picking up Merlin's satchel with one hand. He casts a slightly contemptuous glance at the entrance of his once prison. "I have no wish to stay here any longer than possible."

Merlin catches the satchel that Arthur dumps at him with a surprise "Ompf". "There's a village a few clicks away on the north." Merlin informs him, fishing a crumpled map in his back.

He smiles slightly as he remembers his reason for buying the map; he wants to travel all the lands and seas he could reach before death takes him. Unfortunately, he was too tired to continue and just decided to rest in the demon king's cave.

He can't believe how wonderful things turned out; a new friend and a new heart. Who would have thought.

"We can go there to replenish supplies," Arthur replies. Then, he glances at Merlin from the corner of his eye, obviously trying to be nonchalant. "You can go wherever you wish after that." Though he tried to hide it, Merlin could hear the uncertainty and wary hope in Arthur's voice.

Merlin grins. "And leave you to wander about and to get killed by bandits? A lot has changed since your imprisonment and you probably know nothing of the world, _Your Highness_," Merlin mutters the last words with as much sarcasm as possible. Arthur rolls his eyes and Merlin counts that as a win. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me now." He claps a hand at the back of Arthur's shoulder. "Besides, I'm the one with all the money."

"Pity. I thought I could finally get rid of you." Arthur replies, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. "And," the former king lifts a hand holding a small pouch. "I believe I'm the one holding the money."

Merlin squawks indignantly and tries to grab for it. "You thief! That's mine!"

Arthur races ahead of him, laughing and teasing. Merlin feels his heart beating quickly again and wonders whether it's because of his or his friend's exhilaration. Does it really matter?

With a wide smile, Merlin chases after Arthur.

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_The tale of the ice-cold demon and the young man ends here._

_And their second story begins . . ._

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.

.

.

.

"Do you think my warm hug actually _melted _the ice?" Merlin says with a note of amused disbelief.

Arthur rolls his eyes so hard, Merlin wonders why they didn't fall out of their socket.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin."

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**A/N:** Unbeta'ed so all errors you see are mine.

FINALLY DONE! 13 000 words of atrocious grammar and it's done.

The plot is based on the manga _**Koori no Mamono no Monogatari**_, which in English, _**The Ice-Cold Demon's Tale**_**.** The translation to English has atrocious grammar but if you want, you can read it in mangafox or mangapark.

As I said in the summary this is a FAIRY TALE AU. Happy endings are practically required in fairy tales (actually, I just wanted one).

Kindly point out any glaring errors you see. Constructive criticisms are very much welcomed!

Have an incredibly awesome day, everyone!

~ Vividpast


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